A Cabin in the Woods
by The9thGunslinger
Summary: Temporary HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Marvel Owns the Avengers.

A Cabin in the Woods

_Barton_

Silence permeated the forest. There was a certain stillness that does not come until the dead of winter when the bare trees make no movement, and the frozen rivers and lakes offer no reprieve from the quiet.

_This_ was his home. He lay belly down in the snow, absolutely still. The white and gray camouflage made him all but invisible. In other places he may be a hawk, but here he was a ghost. Slowly and steadily he took a deep breath, his already good eye enhanced by the viewfinder before him and waited.

Time seemed to pass slower here. The frozen environment made it difficult to perceive whether or not the seconds were truly passing. It was unfortunate that the peace was not destined to last.

In the far distance the silence was, at last, broken. First there was the sound of tires crunching on the snow, then car doors opening and closing, then nothing. The replenished silence continued for a time before a second interruption. Another vehicle approached, coming from the opposite direction down the forest road. The passengers of the truck went through the same motions as the first.

As the silence had been broken twice already, Clint had no qualms about breaking it a third.

"Target in sight."

Agent Hill, lying directly beside him, made no movement as she replied.

"Acquired."

"Range: 700 meters."

There was only the smallest sign of movement from Hill as she made minuscule changes to the scope of her rifle.

"Adjusted."

Barton moved for the first time as he pressed down on his communicator.

"Widow, be ready for clean-up." He shifted back into place and refocused on the viewfinder, "wind: less than 1 kph."

Beside him, Hill took a breath and stilled as she tightened her grip on the rifle.

"Take the shot."

The silence seemed to know it was about to be utterly shattered. It was almost as if it gathered its strength, trying to smother whatever was about to ravage the quiet. It was to no avail.

Clint steadied himself as the rifle beside him roared with the sound of a shattering boulder. It took all the archer's will and training not to flinch as the sheer force of the sound hit him. Instead he watched for confirmation and was rewarded with grim satisfaction.

For a split second after the shot was fired the men on the road took no notice. That all changed when the target, seemingly out of nowhere, was shunted to one side then fell like a stone to the ground. A moment later, the target's men heard the shot and all hell broke loose.

Clint glanced to Hill as gunfire began to breakout below and calmly gave the order to pull back. The two operatives rose to a crouch and began disassembling their equipment with a skillful speed. They quickly finished packing and promptly headed further back into the forest.

_Romanoff_

"Widow, be ready for clean-up."

Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers rose as one behind their respective trees. They were both clad in the same camouflage as Barton and with suppressed assault rifles to boot. Natasha gave the five second warning to Rogers and he nodded in acknowledgement. She went through a mental checklist of equipment and readied herself for the coming storm.

The shot rang out clear and cutting in the winter air. Romanoff swung out from behind her tree and quickly centered the frenzied men in her sights. She focused on one and depressed the trigger, as the gun coughed one of the men performed a morbid dance courtesy of the three rounds slammed that into his chest.

Romanoff and Rogers both began slowly advancing towards the road, trading their controlled bursts with the other group's wild pop shots. One of the men had managed to get the truck running and was preparing an escape.

"Tires!" barked Rogers.

"Got it." Natasha swung the rifle around and fired into right front and back wheel wells of the already moving vehicle. It didn't take much further for the truck to veer and slam into a tree. Her next burst blew out the window and splattered the inside with red. As she pressed the trigger again nothing came out. Without a moment's notice she dropped the rifle to her side, the strap keeping it from the ground, and pulled her sidearm, putting two rounds into the face of one of the men taking a peek around the opposite car.

There were only three men left of the original two parties. Six others, the primary target included, lay dead on the snowy road, their blood providing a sharp contrast to the sea of white. All three were using the bullet ridden car as cover. Rogers and Romanoff began their advance.

They stopped as two hands suddenly appeared over the hood of the car. They were splayed out showing no weapons.

"Don't Shoot!" Croatian. Natasha was rusty but she could manage.

"Come out slowly, and show us your hands!" There was a pause.

Heavily accented English came back, "You want us do what with pigs?"

Ok, perhaps to rusty. She repeated her earlier statement in English and the three men complied slowly. She kept her weapon trained on them as Rogers strode forward briskly and used zip ties to restrain the men in the snow. Natasha reached to her ear.

"All clear here Hawkeye, six down including Priev. We have three still alive and are awaiting pickup."

"Copy, we are en route. ETA five minutes. Hawkeye out."

Natasha nodded to Steve and signed out.

"Stay here and watch them," Rogers said pointing to the prisoners, "I'll check the vehicles."

_Rogers_

Captain America headed toward the wrecked truck, all the muscles in his body taught. He felt the slight shaking in his hands, though he tried to ignore it. When Rogers reached the opposing side of the truck from Natasha he paused, leaning against the side. He leaned his gun up against one of the tires and let out a slow shaky breath.

That had been brutal. He had been in combat before, but well, this wasn't combat. He had taken part in a slaughter. Rogers made the mistake of looking in the driver's side window. There were bits of glass everywhere, and the kid who sat in the seat had the left half of his face destroyed.

These men hadn't been soldiers, they weren't in a uniform. There was no hydra or SS stamped on their shoulders for him to hate. Sure the guy Priev had been a rotten bastard, something about Eastern European war criminal, but he could tell that the others had no real formal training.

He knew what they were doing was necessary. Priev had been going to trade weapons for US passports and citizenships. Intel said that there was a possibility that the weapons were unstable or radioactive. That was why SHEILD operatives were being sent. They didn't want any incidents in what had formerly been the Soviet Union. Something Rogers knew he should do more reading on.

The Captain shook his head and steadied himself. He took a peak around to see that Agent Romanoff still had her weapon trained steadily on the three prisoners. She was used to this kind of op. She had no problem with bursting out of the underbrush and pumping lead into people she knew nothing about. She took her orders and carried them out with an efficiency that he admired. It was her lack of questions that concerned him.

Rogers shook his head a second time and attempted to focus on the mission. He opened the back hatch of the truck and gave pause. There were several boxes lining the inside, all emblazoned with HAMMER TECH on the side. They all had warnings of radioactive content.

Roger backed away swiftly, his hand flying to his ear, "This is Rogers. We have confirmed radioactive materials here. All HAMMER TECH too."

Barton was quick to answer, "We should be arriving at the road shortly; hold tight and make sure everything is ready for pick up."

"Will do."

A/N: Ok, so that was the first chapter! Now please, do that thing where you click the bottom button and REVIEW!

Its right here.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Marvel owns the Avengers. And I guess Disney does too. Bastards.

A Cabin in the Woods

_Spielberg_

Eric considered himself to be a heavy sleeper. He had been known to go through the worst of thunderstorms without once waking. However, when the phone goes off _again and again and again_, sleep becomes somewhat of an issue.

It was during the fourth call to his cell that he finally answered.

"Hello?" he asked groggily, "who is thi-."

"Eric! Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell took you so long! Haven't you heard?" there was a pause, "what are you even doing right now?" Another pause, "Are you asleep?"

"Yes, I'm asleep and talking to you on the phone at the same time." Eric shook his head trying to clear the grogginess. "Look, who is this?"

"It's Michelle." Only now did the voice register as female. Plus the fact that it was Michelle Levon almost made up for the fact that she was calling him this late. Almost. "What, uh, what time is it there?"

"Two" Eric did his best to deadpan. He couldn't help but smirk at the apprehensive tone in her voice.

"Shit, sorry it's seven here in London and everybody is going crazy right now."

"What's going on that has you calling me at two in the friggin' morning?" Whatever it was, it had better be good.

There was a moment of silence, as if she was gathering herself for what she was about to say. He didn't know why but something about it made the hairs stand up on his arms. This was something big wasn't it?

"Karl Priev was just killed in Hungry."

Oh.

OH.

Yeah, that was big.

"But he was off the grid…"

"For seven years, yeah I know." The seriousness of the situation came down on him like a sack or bricks. "Listen, brass isn't telling us shit but they want us all here as soon as possible."

"So…"

"So get up, pack your bags, and get your ass on the first flight to London."

Eric groaned and let his head it the pillow.

_A hop, a skip, and a grueling morning flight later._

Eric walked down the loading tunnel, eyes scanning the crowd for Michelle. The coffee buzz that he had gotten while still in Atlanta was beginning to fade. Eric took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It didn't help that he suddenly remembered that it was mid-January here in England, and probably freezing, too bad he hadn't bothered to bring a coat.

He wandered farther into the terminal, stumbling slightly over his bags. The grumpy analyst finally found Michelle in the back of the seats, sitting and talking with some man he had never met before. She saw him and motioned for the other guy to stand. She reached out a hand and he shook it tiredly, but he did allow a small smile spread over his face at the sight of her. The mocha skin, frizzy hair, and deep coffee eyes managed to stun him every time.

"Bout time," Michelle had twice the smile he did; "you look like hell, Eric."

"Oh, sure hello to you too," Eric leveled his gaze at the stranger standing awkwardly next to her, "Where does she think she gets off, huh?"

It was just then that Eric noticed just how attractive the guy with Michelle was. He was clean cut, about 6' 1", and had one of those photogenic faces. Eric already felt the seeds of dislike planted in the pit of his stomach. He really should shave too.

"Yeah," actually English too, damn, "she really is a silly girl, isn't she?"

He shot Michelle a look and her eyes widened, "Oh, right!" She stepped away from Mr. Attractive English Guy and cleared her throat, "Norman Wells, Eric Spielberg. Eric Spielberg, Norman Wells."

Wells reached forward, his mouth already forming the question Eric knew he was going to ask. "Spielberg, huh? Don't suppose…?"

Eric cut him off as he shook the hand, "no relation."

Wells laughed, "I'll bet that you…"

"Get that a lot? Yeah, I do"

Eric turned to Michelle who frowned at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to the punch.

"Right, well we've got what seems to be a very distressed Colonel waiting for us, so I suggest we head out."

She looked at Eric, her eyes just a little icy, "I suppose you need a ride?"

Eric nodded, tight lipped.

"We'll meet you there," she said to Norman.

"Right," He looked happy to getting out of there.

She waited a moment for Wells to leave before speaking, "mind telling me what the hell that was?"

Eric felt the lack of sleep wash over him; he groaned and ran his hand down his face. "I'm sorry, just… tired and not used to seeing you hanging out with an Adonis."

Michelle stared at him for a second then shook her head. Eric hadn't exactly kept his feelings for her quiet and now was one of the times he wished he had.

"Well, come on," she started to walk off, "car's this way."

He followed in silence, eyes downcast. Although he prided himself on not staring at her shapeliness as they walked, he still felt dumb for the rudeness to Norman. He was probably a really nice guy, a philanthropist or something. Eric hoped he stole candy from babies.

The pair reached an exit and as Michelle pulled the door, a wave of cold air swept over him. Eric stepped back instinctively and shuddered.

"Did you bring a coat?"

"Might of slipped my mind at 2 am," Eric let some apprehension creep into his voice, "how far back did you park?"

She was trying to hold it back, punish him some more. He hoped to God that she didn't succeed.

Like the sun coming over the horizon, Michelle's face burst into a smile as she chuckled. "I may have parked a little ways back to avoid traffic."

"Fine, let's just get this over with," Eric muttered.

As they began their walk to the car, Michelle took Eric's arm and came close in an attempt to warm him up.

"Thanks," he said around his shivers. It would have been worth it to be stuck in the North Pole in boxers if it meant that she would be close to him like this.

They picked up the pace, and as soon as the car came in sight they dashed forward. The car lights blinked as Michelle unlocked in and Eric threw himself into the passenger side door… only to have the steering wheel slam into his stomach. He fell flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him while Michelle doubled over with laughter.

"Right," he said, getting up slowly, "English cars are weird."

"Come on, you poor thing," she managed through her giggles.

She helped him to the over side before jogging over to the steering wheel. Before long they were on the road and headed out of the airport. The pair drove in silence for a time as Eric rubbed his hands together, waiting for the heater to start running. It was Michelle who broke the silence first.

"Norman isn't an Adonis."

"Yeah, whatever," Eric said cheekily as the heater finally started, "he's gorgeous."

"You just think that because anyone is gorgeous compared to you."

"You try looking nice after…"

"After getting up at 2 am," she said in a mock deep voice, "come on be a man and stop with the bitching."

"Ahh, fuck you Levon."

"Nah, I'll pass," she said idly checking her nails, "Oooooh! Maybe I should give Norman a call about that!"

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Noted. And proud of it."

She laughed again, God how he loved that sound.

A/N: OK, so I know that it seems like we're breaking away from the main plot here, but please stick with it! I promise that the next chapter is going to have all the reveals and answers you're looking for. I just needed this chapter to introduce the OCs.

The review button is now the most attractive man/woman you have ever seen. You know you want to click that.

If you know what I mean…

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